forum Opportunistic Omnivore: Scavenging the Remains of the Divine || OxO || Closed || 18+

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

Eurion's ears twitched, his Fae hearing coming in handy. It was near silent, but there was the slightest, almost impossible to hear the noise of a crunch, and his head snapped towards it. Off to the left of the path, where the trees seemed to be closer together than the rest, darker than the rest, the sound stopped when Eurion looked.

The assassin drew his bow, slowly, carefully, just as he had done a thousand times over when it came to killing people, or prey out in the wild. But this time, they were the prey. There was another snap from behind them, and then another to the right. Three of whatever was hunting them. He could feel those eyes on them, he could feel the way the shadows warped around them to keep them hidden. Typical, but he was grateful that he was able to sense and feel better. He worked better in the dark, but even he was cautious.

"Three of them," He mumbled, "Not big, but…" Deadly. Surrounded. If they made a run for it they would die, if they stayed then chances were they would end up fighting. It was a lose-lose situation. Maybe if they were quiet they could move. Maybe they were just stalking and watching but not hunting. He doubted it. The way the magic of the begins pressed against them as if trying to corner and trap had him concerned. It was almost suffocating.

Eurion's own magic flickered around the arrow now sitting comfortably in the bow, ready to guide it through the bush and the trees into the dark in hopes of hitting its mark. One arrow wouldn't do it, but the four of them might be able to with the skills they all possessed. Even so, it wouldn't look good for him considering it may have looked like a trap. Leading them into the woods knowing that it was dangerous and ending up in the jaws of the beats that had them stuck.

Azriel's talents would've really come in handy right about then. Having a giant, deadly beast of his own at his side with a fierce protective streak, like a mother lion protecting her cub, their cousin would've been just fine. But Issi wasn't there, and Sláine wasn't keen on attempting to summon her for help. But, he could do a bit of summoning. Just not a beastie.

Caoimhe's fingers twitched around his weapon, impatient to draw and fight, but knowing it would put them all in danger. Even Aideen was quiet and as still as a statue. She couldn't risk flying away to investigate under the ruse of being a simple bird when that very movement could trigger an attack. Making sure to make as minimal movements as possible, Sláine crouched down to put a hand to the ground and felt for any openings he could exploit. Looking above would do them nothing, and he had no idea where the beasts were, besides most likely surrounding them. Eurion could do more with his shadow magic than they could when it came to being precise. But, sneak attacks didn't always need to be precise, just large enough to cover their asses.

His magic burrowed underground, spreading outwards just beneath the surface and forming a large enough radius that there was a good chance whatever they were facing was within the circle. Sláine remembered one place he had discovered, a world located just beneath them where the air was nothing but toxicity and death to those not built for those conditions. "It might not work," the prince murmured, dagger at the ready, "but I can open up a window and gas the shit out of them." He glanced at Caoimhe, who nodded, then over to Eurion. "It could give us an edge, but we'd also need to be shielded until I close the window." Which Caoimhe would do. The princes would be at a slight disadvantage for a moment, because Caoimhe would be focused on everyone, and Sláine had to open and reseal a connection between worlds. But if Eurion thought it would work, then they'd do it.

The grip Eurion had on his bow tightened, and he looked towards Sláine for a brief moment before he nodded, "Do it." With the twins preoccupied with protecting the group, he would make sure he had his magic at the ready. The shadows flickered around them, subtle enough to be not noticed unless you were in tune with your surroundings. They twitched around his bow, around their feet, as if ready to shoot out and provide an extra shield, some more cover.

He would do all he could to make sure the twins and Aideen didn't get hurt. It was his fault they were in this situation, and if he died or got injured it wouldn't matter as much. If the princes showed up back at the palaces covered in blood and muck along with their friend, without Eurion? It wouldn't look good, it would look far from good. Sure, without him they wouldn't be able to find Old Gods, but there would be other ways, he figured. Sláine knew about the markerstones, that the Gods had shown him that was clearly their next step, so it would be fine. They would be fine, even if Eurion wasn't.

There was shifting from behind them, the creatures moving, as if contemplating when to attack. It didn't take long, because no more than a moment later there was a horrific howl and one of them lurched forwards.

Its form was far from pretty. Its body was as big as a large cat, although it was far from it. It walked on all fours, with three long fingers at the end of the front two and four on the back. It had a hunched back with pale white, almost grey skin that seemed to be a cross between scales and skin. The thing had four eyes, two on either side of its head. The front two were dark black, the others a milky white, as if blind. Its nostrils flared, and its mouth revealed sets of sharp, decaying teeth. Once one was revealed, the other two lurked out of the shadows, and Eurion shot before he could think about whether or not it was a good idea. His face showed little emotion, but the way he spoke conveyed a hint of fear, "Night Stalkers."

Sláine still had his dagger in hand, blade out to swipe if need be, but he focused on pulling at the other world and knitting it and theirs together. Caoimhe grabbed his scythe and got into a ready stance with it outstretched, primed to swing and cleave any of them in half. With the movement of the creatures, Aideen shifted and had her sword ready in no time. They both took up posts around Sláine to keep the prince mostly protected, though they'd be down one the moment Caoimhe had to blanket them in his magic to keep them safe from the gas.

Then the beings showed up, and the prince heard Eurion's fearful voice. "Fuck," Sláine cursed. Night Stalkers. He hurried his magic along, and the ground wavered some from the process as he forced an opening just beneath the surface. It was taking too long, the distance too great at the moment. He kept pulling and hissed in Gaelic to himself. The damn things were ugly as hell, but definitely deadly. If they could incapacitate them long enough to keep them stunned, they might all be lucky enough to get by with a fight. But that was all down to luck, and he didn't like how scared Eurion sounded, even if he didn't give much away. He might be in the most vulnerable position at the moment, but he wanted the assassin safe. "Middle, guide our hands to victory," he prayed in Gaelic, and yanked his magic. His vision blacked out for a few seconds as he took the impact of the two world colliding, but he refused to let that stop him.

"Now, Caoimhe," he called, voice strained. His brother responded instantly, wrapping them in an invisible blanket of protection just as the ground seeped with a burst of discolored air in a perfect circle. His magic was a physical weight on them, as if he were holding onto them himself, but not suppressive like how the creatures had been. They could breathe just fine, but so long as Caoimhe kept tabs on them and concentrated. Sláine held the window open as long as he could, his head bowed. Just until it did something, no longer than that. Then the window would slam shut.

The creatures hissed as they breathed in the gas. One of them stumbled back a step, reaching up with one of its front legs as if trying to shield its nose from the gas. It made some strange clicking noises in between the howling and the hissing as if trying to communicate with the two others of its kind that were also starting to stumble. Their heads shook as if trying to shake off the gas.

Eurion was almost relieved at the sight of the things stumbling backwards as he drew another arrow, but the feeling didn't last long when, after a few moments, the night stalkers appeared to just… stop breathing. He had only ever heard about the fuckers in stories and thought they had all died out centuries ago. Clearly, they had been wrong. Creatures that were neither dead nor alive, living in the space between life and death as if on the verge of both. Creatures that, in theory, were supposed to live in the depths of hell and torment those who were unlucky enough to find themselves there. The gas had only incapacitated them for a brief moment, but now? Now it seemed that it wasn't going to be doing much if they could just stop breathing it in.

"Let go of the window! It's not going to work!" Eurion shot an arrow, teeth barring as the arrow made its mark on the side of one of the beasts. Dark, almost black blood oozed out the side of its skin before the night stalker ripped it out. It appeared to only make them angrier. Caoimhe's shield would only last so long, and he could feel their own magic start to push back against the princes. That invisible hand trying to get through the barrier- weaken it, trying to get the prince to a point where he couldn't maintain the shield and it dropped, allowing them easy access to their prey.

Aideen and Caoimhe just started getting a little more confident in their chances when they noticed the same thing. Of course they could just not breathe, because they couldn't have an advantage. Their faces set in grim determination, and Caoimhe upheld his shield while assessing the best point of attack. Aideen slashed at the nearest one, nearly hitting before it reared back.

Sláine didn't need to be told twice. He let go of his hold, and the other world ripped itself away the second he stopped pulling. The strain left him dizzy with spotted vision, but he turned his magic's momentum towards doubling down on Caoimhe's shield. They'd be harder to injure, at the very least, but it wasn't a solution to their problem, especially when he felt the invisible fingers prying at their intertwined magic. His brother pulled him to his feet, and as Sláine got his footing, one of the beasts lunged at them. Caoimhe swung at it, the edge of his scythe burying into its side, but it howled at him in fury and tore itself away.

They were working on a guessing game, and they weren't guessing quick enough. Though he was still recovering, Sláine worked on muscle memory and sheathed the dagger, then pulled both swords and struck them together in a practiced spin. The metal sparked and hit the oiled blades. Flames erupted and licked eagerly at the air, like it was searching for blood to spill and flesh to burn. The prince swung at the nearest bit of movement, but hit nothing. Sneaky bastards. "I'm assuming we don't have a plan B," he called back. Instinct brought the brothers back to back, and Aideen covered the side Eurion wasn't on, batting away beasts and getting shallow cuts in and only managing to piss them off bit by bit. "Swing until they die?"

The howls and cries the stalkers made were ear-piercing, like metal scraping against one another and sending that shrieking echoing throughout the surrounding area. The shallow cuts were better than nothing, as much as they were becoming increasingly pissed off with the group, it held them back enough so they could think through what to do next.

Eurion let his shadows guide his arrows with little thought, moving on muscle memory so he could focus on thinking. Swing until they died was an option, but it left their chances of surviving slimming down the longer they waited. He tried to think about what he knew, what he could recall from the stories about the creatures, and the best way to kill them. Being living nor dead, made things tricky. Go for the legs? No, no that wasn't it. Another arrow released from his fingers and hit one of the creatures in the eye, sending it reeling backwards as it adjusted itself to try and see better.

The thought hit him harder than he had been expecting, and he turned to Aideen, "Go for the head, I'll go for the chest." It was a risky theory to test in the middle of a fight, and getting close to the things would leave them vulnerable, especially out of the shield. One of the stories he could recall stated that to fully kill them, you had to take out the head and the heart - the connections to the living and the spiritual worlds that they could access. Two blows. One to the chest to weaken the heart, and decapitating the head to serve the link between the physical world. if it worked, they would be able to take them on with ease, he hoped. Eurion had never thought he would ever have to come across creatures he believed to be fairy tales, but here they were. Sláine's fire diminished his shadows ever so slightly, and Eurion felt them slink away from the light, but he didn't comment on it, it wasn't needed. Eurion hoped his shadows would be fine.

Caoimhe stabbed down at one of the stalkers, impaling it. It should've worked with the force of the blow, but the beasts screamed at him and yanked his scythe away, causing him to rear back to rebalance the heavy weapon. "I already hate these things," he muttered, and readjusted to go at it again. His own rage was leaving him taking more risks, hedging the edge of their shield to catch the beasts with his swings, even if it proved useless time and time again. They just weren't dying, or even being fazed by the injuries they were collecting, but the prince kept going.

Behind him, Sláine's swords seared the skin of the stalkers whenever they got too close to him, but just as his brother was finding, they didn't care and kept going back. Their intertwined magic was still holding on, protecting them, but between the fight, the opposing magic, and the concentration needed to keep tabs on everyone to keep them within the bubble, it wouldn't last forever. The prince gritted his teeth and kicked one square in the face when it got too close for comfort; it screamed and stumbled, then rounded to another spot to attack. They needed a plan. This wasn't working. But then Eurion shouted out an order.

They didn't have time to argue, and this solution was better than nothing, so Aideen didn't hesitate to react to Eurion's demand. She darted towards the stalker Eurion aimed at, her sword at the ready. It reached out for her, creepy eyes gleaming when she stepped out of its path, and she skidded back to avoid getting hit. Luckily, she predicted it going in for another swipe, and she slashed on an upswing, going right for the neck with the intention and strength to decapitate. This better work, or they were screwed.

Just as Aideen swung for the neck, Eurion slid underneath, pulling out the dagger that Sláine had given him before impaling it right into the centre of the chest of the stalker. It shrieked, swinging its claws at Eurion who, as much as he was unhappy being the subject of the creature's claws, provided enough of a distraction for Aideen's sword to go right through its neck, effectively severing the head. It hit the ground with a thud, and the body of the thing wiggled as if trying to get away before it slumped on top of the assassin. It twitched a couple more times before finally, it stopped moving. The eyes stopped blinking, the body didn't move, and Eurion couldn't feel its twisted magic slinking and trying to capture his own.

He pushed the body off of him with a grunt and a hiss at the newfound wound in his side. It wasn't deadly enough to have him bleeding out, but enough of an inconvenience that he swore and held his side to apply pressure. But there wasn't enough time to think through or register any pain as the third beast howled, eyes looking straight at them. At least that was one down and his theory had been correct. They really would have been fucked, and Eurion would have been dead if it hadn't. He thanked his late mother for all the stupid stories she had told him because they had just saved his gods damned life, and would save the lives of all of them.

But as its brother had died, the night stalkers were angry, and their sharp claws shimmered in the light of Sláine's blades. Not enough time, not enough time. Eurion could feel the magic growing, fighting against the twins, against his own. Getting close to them was a bad idea, as was clear considering the blood starting to trickle down his side, and so Eurion opted for his magic. His arm extended towards the beasts and a wave of shadow wrapped around their legs in an attempt to restrain them enough for the others to kill them. It wouldn't last long, they were strong, and fucking pissed.

Finally, finally, they had an edge. The strategy worked, one was dead, and now it was four versus two. Aideen whirled around to face the howling stalker and put herself between it and Eurion. They may not like each other at the moment, but he was her ally for the time being, and she didn't leave others vulnerable. "Come and get me, you slimy bastard," she taunted, sword at the ready and dripping with the blood of its fallen brother. The beast snarled and fought against Eurion's shadows, hindered for the moment.

But it was Sláine that fell into a fury at the sight of Eurion injured. The prince's magic boiled beneath his skin and pushed itself to its already worn-thin limits, swirling around them all to grab onto the two remaining beasts, to pull them away from Eurion and to the twins. It manifested in transparent and shimmering burnt orange claws that grappled for the throats of the stalkers, as if he could tear off their heads with nothing but magic alone. Had he been less exhausted, he might've. But that combined with Eurion's shadows slowed them down long enough that the twins could dive in and go for the kill.

Sláine charged for the closest one, heedless of its thrashing claws tearing at him, and impaled his sword into its heart before dropping down to his knees. Caoimhe's scythe swung in less than a second later to cleave off the beast's head. Aideen called out to them when the last beast ripped free of its magic shackles in a last-ditch fury. Sláine spun around, swords raised in defense, but ended up being the one pinned to the tree as the stalker slammed into him. He blindly hooked a leg around its one limb to throw it off balance, then used that tiny bit of leverage to go for its head. Caoimhe used the pointed edge of his scythe to impale the heart, far too close to his twin than either of them were comfortable with but without any other choice, right as Sláine used both hands to push his burning blade through the beast's neck—he didn't have the momentum for a swing. His other sword was lost during the struggle, discarded on the forest floor.

Caoimhe flicked the body off his scythe and away from his brother, chest heaving from adrenaline. "That was eventful." Somewhere along the way, they both had lost their hold on the shield. And Sláine's magic was gone from sight, finally dissipating after constant usage.

Eurion was glaring at the body of the creature that was laid in front of him as if he could burn the thing away with the magic. The only movement he made was turning his head to make sure everyone else was okay, to make sure Sláine was okay. Apart from the depletion of their magic, it seemed they were all fine minus the cut on his own side. But the assassin paid no notice to it as he turned his head back to the night stalker.

“They’re not supposed to be real.” His tone was hard, and he didn’t look at any of his travelling companions as he said them.

No, that was why he had been scared, because the fuckers weren’t supposed to exist in the first place. Fairytales, stories, make believe to scare children from wandering too deep or too far away from their families. They were not supposed to be here, or all places, close to the witches territory, and even on this plain to begin with. The stories had always been laced with truth. They he existed, many centuries ago before any of this was founded, before the Fae, before them, but they were supposed to be dead. They were supposed to be dead and buried and had been long gone otherwise why would they be called stories?

Eurion muttered to himself in his own tongue as he stood slowly, trying not to move his hand away from the wound in case it was worse than he had expected. He couldn’t tell considering he was still half in shock and half running of adrenaline as to whether it was properly serious. But he didn’t feel like fainting, and he still had his sight, so that was a good sign.

Sláine slid to the ground, the dizziness coming back in a rush. Magical backlash was a bitch. He hadn't expected the two worlds to be so far apart this time, or for the other one to be so resistant to shifting around. Add that to the constant push of non-stop force in areas he wasn't trained in. and his magic was fighting against him for the expelled energy. His head also hurt, and dully he remembered to check inventory. The prince looked down to inspect his hand, uncurling his fingers. A neat slice cut across his palm from where he had pushed against his blade, and the wound was cauterized and throbbed from the minor burns scattered across his skin. Elsewhere, there were cuts all over him, some shallow slices along his neck and arms, and he could feel his ribs protesting with each breath. The hit from that last beast would probably bruise.

Otherwise, the rest of them were okay. Aideen scanned Eurion with a small frown directed towards the hand covering his wound, then looked to the twins Caoimhe was mostly fine, if a bit burnt out from magically battling the beats as well as physically. She had a few more cuts like Sláine did, but hadn't gotten quite as close as the prince did.

As Sláine collected himself and tried to get his spotty vision back to normal, he stilled looked for Eurion to make sure he was okay. He didn't like what little of the wound he could see. Caoimhe gathered the discarded swords and doused the flames with a quick burst of magic to smother them. "Something is going on," he said, and pointed at one of the dead bodies. "You're right, those shouldn't exist here, and we didn't let them in." The prince smoothed a hand over Aideen's hair, more a self soothing gesture than anything. "This is isn't normal. Someone or something is messing with shit that shouldn't be messed with." And he could tell by Eurion's reaction to the ambush that this wasn't a normal occurrence, either.

Eurion lent against the nearest tree. He dropped his bow in favour of putting both hands onto his side as he felt the blood seeping through. With the little magical energy he had left he used the shadow from the tree casting over him to apply the pressure, letting him move his hands away and see just how bad the wound was.

Not good, was the answer. Those claws had gone deeper than they should have. The shadows flickered around the cut, the slightest indication that the assassin was straining even if he tried to not to show it. He would only be able to hide it for so long, pretend that he was okay before his magic strained and withered away to rest. Even the shadows were tired, scared and stressed, he could feel it in the way they cast over them, lurking, waiting, as if something else was out there. For now it was just enough to prevent it from looking too terrible, but he had a feeling that both Sláine and Aideen who had seemed to frown, weren’t going to like what they saw eventually.

They had to get out of there. If the Night Stalkers had been here, Gods knew what else would be lurking in the shadows. They still had a fair walk ahead of them. They were all tired, half injured. The short cut wasn’t exactly ‘short’ anymore with the disturbance in their path.

Who was messing with realities to bring back creatures from long dead pasts? It couldn’t be the Old Gods… surely, they didn’t have the strength, at least not enough magical energy left to drag beings like that through and keep them there. It wasn’t possible. It was why they used him to do their shit instead of doing it themselves. Something else was going on, they could all feel it.

“We have to go.” Eurion wiped the blood of his hands as it was nothing, picking his bow back up. Maybe if he pretended like it was then it would be fine. They had to move, it wasn’t safe anymore. It hadn’t been safe to begin with but it was really not safe when something was messing with reality.

Caoimhe held a hand out and hauled his brother up and onto his feet, the put the back of his hand against Sláine's forehead. The younger prince batted him away. He wasn't in the mood for that, and he knew what he was feeling and was used to it by now; it would go away eventually. He grabbed his swords back from his twin, sheathed them, picked up his discarded bag, then stalked his way over to Eurion with a barely concealed look of concern.

Aideen twirled around, not quite comfortable enough with their safety to sheathe her sword. "Caoimhe, can you jump us? Sláine's down for the count magically for a bit, and I don't think any of us are really keen on being ambushed again. We need to find somewhere to stop and rest."

The prince looked out towards the main road, re-checking the invisible map. "I don't know. You and Eurion might not respond well to the feeling, plus, it's one thing to jump ourselves, it's another to do it to a group." But he also knew their chances of getting through without an encounter was looking less likely now that they've been attacked once. The suppressive feeling of the darkness wasn't letting up either, not completely. "I might be able to get us to the road."

"I'll help." Sláine saw the blood Eurion tried wiping away and knew they needed to find a place to stop. He turned to his brother, who already had his mouth open in protest. "It's just a jump. I can take Eurion and follow you, you take Aideen." Then he turned back to the assassin, this time his concern clear when the others couldn't see it. "But it's your call. Jumping is just, like… Caoimhe threw the pillow at me through a jump. We fold the current reality into a false future, displacing things and people. Most see it as teleportation." He didn't want to force Eurion under more magic than they had already done so with the shield. The prince refused to be like the Gods.

"But they have to know where they're going," Aideen added, "Hence Sláine following Caoimhe." She never took her eyes off the rest of the woods as they spoke, her body tense and ready to fight again. "Either way, we need to make a choice and quickly."

Eurion knew that the chance of making it out of the woods now were slim. The darkness was starting to constrict even him, which wasn’t a good sign at all. He didn’t know how far he’d be able to make it before his wound started to make things ten times more difficult then things already were. If they could get back out into the open road it would make everything a whole lot easier.

He didn’t like how concerned Sláine looked, and he tried to convey that he was fine but it wasn’t working great, not when he was staining to keep his own make shift bandage secure, “Only if you feel up for it.” The prince had used a significant amount of his own magical energy, and transporting two people would be a cause for concern. Eurion worried for the prince, he was worried for all of them, quite frankly, which was unusual, but more so for Sláine.

He wasn’t fond of the idea of jumping, not when he already felt constricted by the magic around them, but they didn’t have much of a choice. If they braved the rest of the way by foot, it was highly likely something else would creep out from the shadows, and they wouldn’t be so lucky, Eurion knew, when they were all feeling drained from the previous fight. As much as he didn’t want to, it would only be for a few moments, and they would be out of the woods, they would be somewhat safe on the open road and closer to that inn where - hopefully - he could fix up his side without worrying Sláine too much.

Caoimhe looked like he wanted to second Eurion's words, because he knew that his brother had strained his magic too much too quickly. Had they had time to build it up, he would be a lot less exhausted with a lot less magical backlash. Though, it was cause for concern that the world they've exploited several times already was so resistant to the prince's magic. Either way, he also knew his twin too well. "Sláine will claim he's up for anything, even if he's on his deathbed." The eldest prince ignored the glare sent his way and ushered Aideen to his side, curling an arm around her waist when she got close enough to pull her against his side. "Then we'll jump. It's getting too creepy and unnerving for me, anyway."

Ignoring his brother and his all too accurate accusation, Sláine stepped closer to Eurion and curled a careful hand around the assassin's arm. "I'm not stupid," he muttered, referring to the wound and Eurion's look of attempted appeasement. When they could, he was using a better bandage to cover it, at least until they got to the inn—then it would be dealt with better. But for now, he tugged Eurion close and looked to Caoimhe. Already, his invisible-again magic curled from his palms and crept along the assassin's arm, as if exploring the newest person. "Lead the way."

The way the twins' magic worked, it was like an extension of them, with physical weight where it reached out and interacted with the world. It was fluid but controllable, no different from an extra limb or two. So when Caoimhe and Aideen disappeared in a watery flash, Sláine's magic washed over the prince and assassin like a full-body embrace. He tried keeping it as gentle and comforting as possible, but it was clear he was exhausted, the magic itself sluggish when responding. Around them, the world folded in on itself, blurring and shifting like they stood in a kaleidoscope or five-sided die being rolled. Though they themselves didn't move, the world around them continued to fold and shift, colors shifting as they arched around and above them. Sláine's strained breaths seemed louder in the space.

It only lasted a few seconds. Caoimhe came to a stop at the edge of the woods, and with Sláine following the tug of his magic, he and Eurion didn't take long to join them.

Eurion wasn't used to the fact that someone else was around, especially someone like Sláine who seemed genuinely interested and concerned with his wounds. It was an odd feeling, comforting almost, but he couldn't shake the want and habit to tell the prince that he would be fine, that he didn't have to worry and stop looking at him like he was actually concerned for the assassin.

It definitely wasn't a great feeling when they jumped. It reminded him too much of the Gods magic. He reminded himself that it wasn't, that it was Sláine's arm wrapped around him, the prince's magic and that was who was holding him. But as the world warped about him it was hard to shake the feeling and the thoughts that it was them. It was over before he could really process what had happened, and when his eyes opened again they were out of the woods. Eurion didn't let go of Sláine, however. They both needed a bit of strength from the other considering their states and if it was questioned they could use that as an excuse for the closeness and the reluctance to let go of one another.

The constricting feeling that had been suffocating them inside the woods eased until it was gone altogether. The sunlight streamed down on them from its place in the sky and Eurion felt the way his makeshift bandage twitched. He was quick to use his cape to cover it, both in an attempt to make sure that it wasn't questioned further and so the shadows had a little extra coverage now they were out in the open.

"If we keep following the path we'll find the inn," Eurion couldn't remember the name of the place. It was small, but bound to have some rooms available, even if it was just two and they had to bunk for the night again, "Out in the open we'll be fine." Unless there were any less-magical beings around that intended to make an appearance.

Sláine couldn't help the closeness to the Gods' magic, so he could only hope that he made it the least invasive as possible for Eurion despite his magic's waning strength. As they made it to the road, he faltered some, but forced himself to keep going. Old habits kicked in, and his body switched to survival mode. The prince may be running on less than two hours of sleep, with magical exhaustion and backlash kicking his ass, and a few aching bruises and cuts protesting every move, but he straightened and forced himself to keep a clear head.

But he didn't let go of Eurion, and that alone gave away the slightest tremor in his hands. His grip tightened some when the assassin directed them to where the inn would be, and he kept the man close just in case he tried walking away. "Wait," Sláine said. Aideen and Caoimhe stopped mid-step and looked back. The older prince furrowed his brow a little when he noticed the two not separating, but Aideen patted him on the chest and whispered for him to leave them alone. Sláine ignored them both, not really caring for being discreet for the moment as he blindly rummaged around in his bag for a roll of bandages he had stored in there. Though he was a magical being, and normally could heal himself for minimal injuries, he still needed to know basic first aid and on-the-spot patching up. The prince knew that Eurion wouldn't want him to help, though, so he held out the roll.

"You're going to bleed out before we get there," he said. Caoimhe made a strangled noise and studied the assassin more closely, as if appalled with himself for missing something so critical. Aideen crossed her arms and leaned against the first prince, making it clear she backed up Sláine's silent statement. They wouldn't go anywhere until they were all well enough to travel the length it took to get to the inn for more intensive care. It could be chalked up to insurance, or minimal care for their guide, but Sláine still wasn't letting up on his concern, and the others didn't give away anything else that they might be thinking.

Eurion resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even though he could feel himself wanting to argue. He was fine, he would be fine, he could hold his magic long enough to get there, he'd done it before, no reason why he couldn't do it again. Of course, the last time hadn't ended well, but that wasn't the point. He didn't hide the fact that he disagreed, but he relented for the sake of avoiding an argument, "I'm fine, but whatever." Sláine wouldn't let it go until he had a proper bandage around the wound.

He took the roll, maybe a little more forcefully than he should have before he finally let go of the prince, making his way off the side of the path to carefully dump his stuff so he had both hands free for wrapping himself up. The assassin adjusted his shift and belt, letting his magic diminish so he could get a better look at what he was working with.

The claws had dug into his side leaving a fairly decent-sized gash in its wake. Three deep claw marks, one for each of the nails. Blood trickled down his side now that his magic wasn't applying pressure, and he could feel the pain starting to build. It was pretty nasty, mixed with dirt and grime and whatever else had been left on the stalker's claws before digging into him. It wouldn't kill him, and it would heal eventually, but it wasn't good.

Eurion held his shirt in his mouth as he unrolled the bandages, trying to keep his body turned away so the extent of the wound wouldn't be commented on. He made quick work of wrapping himself up, making sure it was tight and secure before he pulled his shirt back down and picked his things back up again. His arrows and bag over his back with a soft, pained grunt before picking his bow back up again and turning back to the group, "Can we go now?"

Sláine watched closely to make sure that Eurion was really going to wrap the bandage, more than a little amused by the forcefulness of him grabbing the roll. But when the assassin lifted his shirt, the prince had to look away lest he find himself staring for a multitude of reasons. He didn't need to stress himself out with however bad the wound was—that could come later—and Eurion was clearly doing what was asked of him. But Sláine also knew that he'd stare for other reasons, and he had no excuse to do so, so he occupied himself with taking another small roll that was partially used already to wrap his hand in order to occupy himself. It'd also be a bit hypocritical to ignore his visible injuries while bitching about Eurion's, never mind the fact that one was clearly worse than the other.

The other two talked amongst themselves as they waited, checking in with each other while they could. Caoimhe cupped Aideen's cheek and turned her face this way and that, and while the guard bitched about it, she let the prince get it out of his system. Both of them were otherwise unharmed, Eurion being the most physically harmed and Sláine the most magically harmed. Caoimhe was a bit drained from fighting against the stalkers with his shield, but relatively fine.

When Eurion joined them once more, Aideen gave him an up-and-down look and snickered. "Being snippy with the royals, huh?" she teased, and offered a two-fingered salute. "Welcome to the team; you'll fit right in." The twins mirrored each other's eye roll, and Sláine hesitantly rejoined Eurion's side. He was a little unsure if the assassin was upset with him for being concerned, so he didn't touch him again, but he did give a silent go-ahead for them to continue on. He was happy enough with their current situation, and the other two had their breather, so now all was left was to walk along the road and get to the inn.

The walk to the inn took most of the day, especially with a magically drained Sláine and a physically injured Eurion. Luckily, they encountered no other dangerous creatures, or anyone, on their way to the inn. There were quiet conversations between the group, although Eurion kept quiet most of the way if only to conserve energy and to hide his pain. He hoped that the inn would have some kind of painkiller they could buy otherwise it was going to be a long night.

By the time they made it, the sun was beginning to set softly over the horizon, casting the area in a golden, orange glow, the sky being painted in soft pinks and reds as the sun descended over them. The assassin might have even called it beautiful if he wasn't so focused on trying to make it to the inn. The attack had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he couldn't help but worry about what else may be happening that they didn't know about. If the realities were shifting, merging, perhaps, who knew what would happen, especially if there were creatures from centuries ago being pulled through and ones that were less than friendly.

Finally, the sight of the inn came into sight, the soft puffs of smoke from the chimney drifting up into the air as the sign out the front swung back and forth. It looked well kept from the outside, the wood was polished and clearly had been replaced recently due to the difference in colour. There was a small patio out the front with a few chairs, a couple of tables sat to one side with a door that must have led to the kitchens, or at least some form of dining for the travellers that passed through. As they drew closer, the sounds of clinking from the kitchens, muffled conversations and laughter could be heard, and Eurion would have thanked the Gods if he hadn't been so hurt. A bed, a room. A place to lie and rest. A place to talk to Sláine.

Sláine was so close to collapsing the entire walk, and it was simply willpower that kept him going. It wasn't even the type of exhaustion that made him want to sleep, even if he did need it, he just wanted to fall into a bed and not have to move or do anything for a few hours. Preferably next to Eurion, but things between them was getting far too blurred and complicated for them to keep pushing the rules without a conversation. And if that conversation went badly, then he wouldn't be doing any of that at all. He hoped it wouldn't go badly. He hoped that the assassin was just as drawn to Sláine as the prince was to Eurion, and that they could work something out. He hoped a lot of things, but there were a lot of fears and worries too—they were never far.

He didn't care to keep track of how long they walked, most of them quiet and in their own thoughts, but the inn eventually showed itself. They all seemed to give a collective sigh of relief when they spotted it, and were happy to watch it grow closer and closer.

When they finally reached the building, Caoimhe fingered a pouch of money within his bag. "I can get us the rooms, since I'm least likely to bleed over everyone or hit the floor." He glanced at all of them, as if confirming the okay, and started to go in when Aideen held up a hand to his chest to stop him.

Her eyes were on Sláine and Eurion, though her question was directed towards the oldest prince too. "Two or three? Rooms," she clarified. "Sláine didn't end up dead the last time we stuck him with you, but you also had our backs back there." There was something else in her gaze, something analytical, but Caoimhe was simply patient behind her as he waited to know the number he needed to ask for. Sláine wanted to insist on just two, but he bit it back and cast a fleeting glance over at the assassin. It was his choice if he wanted freedom over sharing with the prince.

"Two. May as well save some money. Better to have more and not need it than use it up on an extra room." Of course, that wasn't the only reason for wanting to share a room with the prince, and the two of them knew that, but Eurion didn't let anything on besides simply wanting to save the coins that they had. They were princes, so money shouldn't matter, and if they questioned it Eurion could merely blame the fact that he wasn't used to having the freedom of just being able to have an extra room if they needed it in favour of conserving what they had when it was more necessary.

It made sense in his head, and he was sure that it wouldn't be too strange. If Aideen had been a thief, surely she would understand his reasoning, but whether she did or not Eurion didn't practically care and met her analytical gaze with one that conveyed that he was simply trying to be cautious.

He didn't look at the prince, but he hoped that he would be fine with sharing a room again. Rationality told him that he would be, especially after yesterday and the fact that the two of them could barely handle one day without the freedom of being able to talk freely about their little complicated situation. At least this would give them another night, at least one more night to try and work things out, if only a little bit. It didn't have to be a long conversation, and it didn't have to be much, just enough that allowed them to be on the same page. Eurion couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the thought that things could go wrong. He blamed it on his own pain making his head feel strange and not the idea that he could genuinely be concerned as to what Sláine might be thinking, what he might say later tonight.

Caoimhe nodded and ducked into the inn without another word, the request of two rooms good enough for him. Aideen studied Eurion a little more, then shrugged and moved over to Sláine to bug him now that her lover was gone. The prince still wasn't too happy with her from their earlier argument, but that was a conversation best had later on, and both silently decided on a truce for now as she took his bandaged hand and unwound the dressing to get a better look at the damage. The guard tsked at him. "You should know better than to touch your own sword blade, let alone when it's on fire."

Sláine didn't have the energy for this. He let her examine the minor burns, then snatched his hand away and rewound the bandage. "I didn't have leverage. It was either that or risk getting skinned by Caoimhe's scythe, and that option wasn't exactly appealing. He frowned down at it, thinking over his magic and the complications. "It shouldn't have been so hard to pull, and they collided too hard to be normal when I did manage to stitch them together. It took nothing for it to rip apart." Aideen tilted her head, and he explained, "We've used that world as a natural weapon before. Easiest thing. Except this time it wasn't." Sláine shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, catching tangles and messing it up even more. "It's weird."

They didn't have to wait long for Caoimhe to grab their rooms. He could sweet talk his way into anything, as long as it didn't involve precise language or eloquence. So, really, he just knew how to turn on the charm and hope for the best. And thankfully, he popped out of the inn with two keys in hand, and a small bag hooked around his wrist. Aideen quickly joined him, and Sláine loosely held Eurion's arm when he went to join them as well—an excuse to touch the assassin once more, because he was a simple man sometimes. Caoimhe brandished his goods and ushered them into the inn. "Right upstairs, first two rooms. They're across from each other. I also got some painkillers for everyone, and warm food on the way."

The inn was fairly large considering how it looked from the outside, with a spacious hall space in the front where the front desk was, leading to the kitchen and dining area around the back. A fire crackled in the space, filling the room with a nice warmth. There were paintings decorating any and all wall spaces and it made the place feel more like a home than an inn. Eurion wasn't going to complain, and when Caoimhe returned with the keys he nearly snatched it out of his hand, ready to just lie down if only for five minutes before the food went to their rooms.

"Thanks," Eurion gave the first prince a small nod and a look of appreciation as he took the key and some of the painkillers. He didn't protest to Sláine holding onto him, they could both use the extra help, and they both wanted the extra comfort. The assassin led them both up the stairs to their room. He didn't move too fast, they were both tired and as much as they wanted to relax and lie down, there was no need to rush, at least not in the state the two of them were in.

The rooms were bigger than the one at the Wolf's Shed, although not by much. It was enough to manoeuvre around, however, and the bed in the centre would be large enough for the two of them, just about, but Eurion didn't care. Once they were both inside, he was quick to place his stuff down with a long sigh. His wound was starting to hurt like a fucking bitch. Thank Gods for Caoimhe getting those painkillers because Eurion wasn't able to pretend just how badly the wound was starting to hurt.